Callaghan grinned.
'Don't worry, Mr Bellamy,' he said, 'I'll be there, an' I'll look after you. Good-day to you, Mr Bellamy.'
He walked across the room. At the door he turned and looked at Bellamy, who had gone back to his seat, who was staring into the fire.
'Don't you worry,' grinned Callaghan. 'Callaghan Investigations never lets its clients down!'
If there was a hint of mockery in the words it did not convey itself to Bellamy. He looked up, nodded, managed a smile.
Callaghan went out.
Callaghan looked at his watch. It was five-thirty. He walked down the road towards Chelsea and stopped at a tea-shop— one of those genteel places usually kept by two maiden ladies and a cat. He went in and ordered a pot of tea and twenty Player's.
He sat in a seat near the fire, inhaling deeply, ex
